


Table For Two

by orsumfenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Potions, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsumfenix/pseuds/orsumfenix
Summary: Regulus is playing a game against Narcissa. It's all about who can get Lucius Malfoy first.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Regulus Black & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Regulus Black/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35
Collections: Regulus Black Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tagged underage for safety + complying to the fest's rules - this fic features no sexual content and regulus is of the british age of consent but still under 18  
> 

_23 rd December, 1977_

Regulus has always thought his life’s greatest tragedy is that Lucius Malfoy left Hogwarts right before he entered it. Other tragedies that make the list include a disowned brother, a dying father and the fact that he’s never suited the colour purple, but never sharing a school with the most stylish man on the planet has got to be the worst.

It’s something he muses on when he spots Lucius at the Slug Ball. Why it had to get called that, Merlin knows, but the banner floating above displays the name proudly. Regulus glares at it every so often, just in case someone’s watching and wondering how he feels about it.

Priam Lestrange gets steadily drunker until he slips and manages to pull the entire tablecloth loose. Dirk Cresswell looks rightly terrified. Regulus scans the crowd looking for the one reaction he cares about: Lucius Malfoy’s second-hand embarrassment.

Lucius has made an excellent choice of robes. Dark green with a slight shimmer, probably made by some traditional French designer. Regulus is especially fond of the collar, high around Lucius’ neck. He wants a collar like that.

The Slug Ball was one of the worst ideas he’s heard in his life. He couldn’t believe it when Slughorn announced it. A reunion of all past and current members of the Slug Club, with dancing and drinks and Death Eaters. He suspects Imperio may have been involved, but by who and why is a mystery. In any case, the hall is swarming with Death Eaters with some Muggleborns and half-bloods who look like they’ve made a very big mistake.

Slughorn is completely oblivious to the tension. He greets everyone the same and doesn’t see a problem when Lily Evans watches Severus Snape’s group the whole time so she can stay on the opposite side of the hall.

Regulus himself feels very safe. He’s surrounded by people just like him, talented and pure-blooded and hiding their arms. The people not like him feel like they’ve been laid out specifically to show how lucky he is. Like, see? Your life could be worse. You could be these people.

Still. He stays away from the gaggle Lucius and Priam are part of. Best not too associate too publicly in case things go tits up.

His opportunity comes when Lucius finally splits and heads in the direction the bathroom. Regulus excuses himself to Ambrosius Flume, who looks happy to keep blathering about sweets to whoever’s unfortunate enough to engage in conversation.

They really are a lovely set of robes. Dark green suits Regulus very well, which was the reason he was so happy to be sorted in Slytherin. It was definitely that and not the family expectations and threats.

When Lucius steps out of his cubicle and sees Regulus he jumps a mile.

“Why are you standing there? Were you waiting for me?”

“No,” Regulus lies. Lucius raises a brow.

“Something you needed, Regulus?” He says Regulus like he’s really smart for knowing who he’s talking to. God, what a tosser. God, Regulus fancies him.

“Nothing in particular. I just wanted to talk.”

“Talk,” Lucius repeats. His eyes linger on the sleeve covering Regulus’ arm. Lots of people’s eyes do that now. Normally Regulus stares them out until they stop. This time he takes a step forwards.

“Tell you what,” he says, “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

If Lucius had a drink, he’d choke on it. To be fair, it did just sound like he got solicited by a sixteen-year-old in a tiny bathroom.

Slowly, Regulus lifts his sleeve. Lucius’ shoulders slump before he remembers himself and stands rigid.

“You should be careful who you show that to. I won’t report you, because you’re the heir to a very respected family, but some people in there wouldn’t feel the same way.” For all his big talk, Lucius can’t tear his eyes away. “Pull your sleeve down before someone comes in and sees.”

“Only if you show me yours.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lucius says coolly. “Now, if you’ll excuse, I have a party to return to.”

He moves towards the door, but Regulus slides so he’s still in front.

“Just show me,” Regulus insists. “It’ll only take a second. I know you have one.”

“Move.”

“No.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Don’t care.”

Lucius breathes out slowly. His hand twitches like he’s considering it before he shakes his head.

“I’m not a Death Eater, Regulus. If I were, I certainly wouldn’t tell you. You could be working with the Aurors or Dumbledore or both. Don’t think I’ve forgotten who runs the school you still attend.”

“It’s the holidays,” Regulus points out. “Do you seriously think I’d work for them? I’m a _Black._ ”

“So was your brother.”

“What brother?”

They stare at each other. They’ve spoken before, most purebloods have, but always in public, forced to talk about politics or books or spells. Regulus has never asked him about what he’s really wanted to ask.

“Where are your robes from, Lucius?”

Lucius blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your robes. I think they’re the best ones here. Did you buy them in a shop, or were they specially made?”

Lucius looks like he’s got whiplash from the change in topic.

“I only ask because I’m very interested in robe design,” Regulus goes on. “If I weren’t me I’d probably go into it as a career. Obviously I can’t do that, but I still notice these things. I’ve never seen buttons like that before. Was the designer French?”

“Italian. I commissioned her after hearing of her work, and this is what she produced. It’s perfect for social events like these.” He narrows hie eyes at Regulus. “I never knew you had an interest in robe design.”

“What _do_ you know about me?”

“The important things.” Regulus’ sleeve has dropped by now, but Lucius stares at the space where the Mark is anyway. “It seems we have a lot in common.”

“Seems so. Can I take a closer look at your robes?”

Lucius really should know better than to agree. Regulus admires the sleeves on the wrong arm first. The stitching is well-hidden, and the rippling of the colour is even more impressive up close. He needs to get the name of this designer.

He traces his fingers up the sleeve, along the collar, and to the other sleeve. Lucius tries to pull away when he realises what he’s doing, but it’s too late. Regulus has already pushed the sleeve up.

“I think we should talk more often,” Regulus says, smiling down at the Dark Mark. “I need more friends in this social circle, and I really like your style. It’s a shame we were never at Hogwarts together.”

When Lucius pushes his sleeve back down their hands brush for a second. Regulus steps back. It’s possible someone at the party has noticed they’ve both been gone for longer than they should. Muggleborns will assume a conspiracy, Death Eaters a dual case of poorly tummies, but one or two people might whisper. Gossip is the last thing he needs right now.

“We were never at Hogwarts together because you’re too young for my social circle. Come back when you have some life experience.”

Coming from Lucius Malfoy, it’s a really funny thing to say. Regulus leans back against the bathroom door. If anyone opens it this’ll get embarrassing.

“The Dark Lord didn’t think I was too young. And his ideas are your ideas, right?”

Lucius laughs. “Pretend to be older all you like, you’re still sixteen.”

“Not for much longer.” That kind of came out threatening. Whoops.

“Planning on getting murdered?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “My birthday’s round the corner. Is seventeen still too young?”

“Oh, really? When is your birthday? If you tell me it’s on Christmas, I’ll have no choice but to die from laughter.”

“My parents thought it would be Christmas. I’m glad it wasn’t or I’d only get one set of presents. I was born late. January 2nd.”

“So ten days away.”

“I’m having a party.”

“I can see why you’d have a party for your sixteenth or eighteenth, but seventeenth really isn’t anything special.”

“It’s not really a party. It’s an opportunity.”

“How mysterious. That doesn’t sound as deep as you think it does. I’m assuming you want to create more social ties through this party?”

“I am a pureblood.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Time’s dragging on. Regulus really should go. “Will a certain…special guest be in attendance?”

“I guess you’ll just have to show up and find out.”

Lucius is silent for a moment. Then: “Will your cousin be at this party?”

“The crazy one or the one you fancy?”

“The one I went on a date with last weekend. I know you know about it, she said she tells you these things.”

“She does.” Hearing footsteps from the corridor, Regulus moves away from the door in time for it to slam open. Severus Snape stops dead when he sees them, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Regulus smiles. Lucius sneers. “Hi.”

Snape greets Lucius and not Regulus. Rude considering Regulus said hi and Lucius didn’t. Before he goes, Regulus turns to Lucius.

“Narcissa will be there, but it’s my party. Don’t forget that.”

Snape glares at him the whole way out the door. Prick.

\--

It all started when Hogwarts closed for Christmas and he went to see Narcissa. Her house is nicer than his, and he likes her House Elf. Narcissa hadn’t asked about the Death Eaters, but she had stared at his arm pointedly, so she obviously knew.

In twenty minutes she’d critiqued his shoes, his robes and his hair. That last one was especially uncalled for. He’d just had it cut short after having had it long for years and was feeling sensitive to how it might look.

“It’s not even short,” she’d said when he pointed this out. “It’s longer than most boys in Hogwarts have it.”

“It was past my shoulders, and now it doesn’t reach my neck. It’s short.”

“Whatever you say. It looks fine.”

“I don’t want it to look fine, I want it to look great.” He ran a hand over his fringe. Yes, that’s right, a fringe. The newest, most exciting thing going. “What about my fringe, how does that look?”

“It looks cute.”

“It’s supposed to look mysterious.”

“Fringes,” Narcissa said, “really don’t look mysterious. But it is nice. Maybe I should get one. I’ll have the House Elf make you some tea. Do you want a biscuit? Mother brought some back from holiday but it’s too much, really, I’ve had a ton and I’m sure that I’ve put on weight.”

Regulus had one biscuit. Then he had another. Then a third. By his fifteenth he was starting to feel sick. They were slathered in chocolate and his sweet tooth was infamous across the family, so there was no need for Narcissa’s face when he went in for a twenty-sixth.

“Take some home for your parents,” she insisted eventually, meaning _take the rest home so you can scoff them all in your room_. Turned out she was right about Druella bringing too many back. It was an atrocious amount.

Then she talked and talked and talked. Usually Regulus can give her a run for her money, but that day he’d been feeling some kind of way and ended up staring out the window. A pigeon was fucking about in the tree outside. To this day he has no idea what it was doing, but it was amazing to watch. Why can’t people be more like animals? Animals are great. People are eh.

That’s when she said it.

"I'm going to bag Lucius Malfoy," Narcissa said, a smug smirk on her face. Regulus, who had been ignoring her inane chatter, turned and glared at her.

"Not if I catch him first."

“You?” He’s never told Narcissa his preferences, but he has talked at length about how he admires Lucius’ robes and cane and hair-flicking abilities, so. “He won’t be interested in you, Regulus. Why have you when you could have me?”

“When not have me when you could have me?”

“Did I say I’m going to bag him? My mistake. I _have_ bagged him. We’re going on a date at the weekend.”

What.

Regulus had narrowed his eyes. “Did you ask or did he?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Narcissa laughed and had the longest sip of tea on the planet. Regulus is a big fan of sipping tea for a very long time. People have to sit and wait and you get to see how patient they are.

“Okay, then,” Narcissa said at length. “I’ll try to get him and you try to get him and we’ll see who wins. It’s going to be me.”

It’s funny how people say siblings are supposed to read each other’s mind. Regulus has a brother he doesn’t understand and a cousin he feels like he knows inside out, and the feeling is definitely mutual. She always knows what he’s thinking. She and Kreacher might be the only ones that do.

Regulus grinned.

“You’re on.”

When he looked back out the window, the pigeon was gone. He took this as a sign he was going to win.

\--

The Slug Ball doesn’t end in murder and/or dismemberment, which is an anti-climax but a relief. Regulus doesn’t talk to Lucius again all evening, because appearing too forward would be incredibly off-putting. He spots Snape shooting daggers a good few times. That guy. Why Lucius is friends with him is the eighth wonder of the ancient world. 

Slughorn has a speech about how proud he is of everyone there, those currently successful and those on their way and, yes, those still in Hogwarts. It’s funny because there’s an actual, physical difference between those who believe in blood purity and those who don’t. Lily Evans looks like she’s going to be sick. It would make the ball a lot more memorable if she were.

As it is, Regulus leaves early. Folks are starting to get very drunk and it’s very much Not His Thing. No point in saying goodbye to most people, but he does catch Lucius’ eye and lift a hand. He gets a nod in return.

His mother is waiting for him at home. He expects her to scream about him being late even though he’s not, but instead he gets a speech on how she hopes he’s upholding the family values. Does pursuing Lucius Malfoy count as upholding the family values? Surely it must. He’s a pureblood. He’s rich. And Blacks have always been competitive. 


	2. Chapter 2

_2 nd January, 1978_

Pros to having his birthday party at Narcissa’s instead of Grimmauld Place include: a. Lucius won’t see Grimmauld Place and be put off by the House Elf heads, b. no one’s going to go into his room, c. Kreacher doesn’t have to attend and be run ragged by guests that don’t respect him, d. Regulus can ‘accidentally’ break a vase and blame it on someone else without the threat of his mother going berserk for ten hours for no reason considering fixing spells exist.

Cons to having his birthday party at Narcissa’s instead of Grimmauld Place include: a. Narcissa has a huge advantage in their competition because her mansion is charming instead of terrifying, b. that’s it.

Guests were instructed to arrive at 6, so people start showing up at 7. Regulus is expected to stand by the door and greet them all politely, even when he has no idea who they are. He’s studied family trees enough to recognise purebloods; it’s the plus ones that are the problem.

William Nott actually has the balls to ask who _he_ is. Regulus stares until Nott’s wife murmurs in his ear and he turns red.

“Sorry, Regulus,” Nott apologises. “You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you.”

“A month ago is not that long.”

“It’s the haircut,” his wife cuts in. “It makes you look very different. Changes your face shape.”

“Enjoy the party,” Regulus says.

He stops greeting people when it reaches half 8 and fashionably late becomes just plain late. Lucius Malfoy still isn’t here and he tells himself that he doesn’t care. He’ll find him another time.

Narcissa smirks at him across the room. At New Year’s she delighted in telling him all about the date they went on. Regulus’ New Year’s Resolution was to go on a better date with that exact guy. 

Regulus is very disappointed to find that his favourite drink has been spiked. Why would anyone ruin the refreshing, fruity taste? It’s a travesty. If he finds out who did it, they’re getting kicked out. Honestly. Some people.

He turns away from the drinks table and comes face to face with Severus Snape.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” Snape says. “Happy birthday.”

“You most certainly were not. I’m not saying thank you because I don’t want you here.”

Snape’s lip curls. He’s probably picked up the habit from Lucius.

“I don’t want your thanks. What a lovely house you live in. You’re very lucky.”

“This isn’t my house.”

“It’s the Black family house. Where else would you live, the streets? Somehow you don’t seem the type.”

“There’s more than one Black family house. I live in the ancestral home. This one just kind of exists.”

“Oh,” Snape says, and his face does that ultra-jealous-and-miserable thing he thinks he’s so good at hiding. “I see. Fortune favours the rich.”

“Great. Get out of my party.”

“I was invited. Why aren’t you drinking your goblet?”

Regulus stares at it in dismay. “It’s been spiked. I’m going to go find a House Elf, do me a favour and leave while I’m gone.”

Snape does the exact opposite of what he’s asked and follows Regulus to the corridor so he can summon a House Elf in private. Lord knows what Snape thinks of him requesting an un-spiked drink to replace the one in there. Snape has very strange and contradictory opinions on everything. Example: he hates Regulus because he hates Sirius, but Regulus is nothing like Sirius. It’s nonsensical. The man is deranged.

“Who invited you?” Regulus demands when the House Elf has gone. He needs to know who to blame for this. Snape leers. 

“Lucius Malfoy.”

His brain stops dead.

“What?”

“I’m his plus one.”

“You?”

“Plus ones are allowed, the invitation letter said so.”

“But why would he bring you?”

“Because we’re friends, and he felt I’d do well at a party like this. ‘Connections to be made’, he said.”

“But -” Narcissa was already coming and it’s Regulus’ own party. Of course Lucius brought someone random. “Does that mean he’s here?”

“Why do you care so much?”

Regulus thinks about telling the truth, then about spinning some elaborate lie, then about just walking off without a word. In the end he says, “Because he’s much better company than you.” Not his best, but his best should be kept in reserve for people who are worth it.

Lucius is very easy to spot amongst the crowd. It’s the hair. His robes aren’t quite as nice as last time’s, but the purple is very flattering and the ruffles add a certain pizzazz the last set lacked. Regulus is very jealous. He’s ill-suited to purple and ruffles make him look twelve.

“Ah, Regulus,” Lucius greets when he spots him. “I was looking for you.”

Score.

“You were?”

“To wish you happy birthday. It is your party.”

Oh.

“The big one seven,” Regulus says. “I feel exactly the same.”

It’s very pleasing when Lucius laughs. Narcissa’s watching them from the drinks table. Bet she didn’t make Lucius laugh.

“This birthday isn’t so special, it’s eighteen that changes you. Inheritance, and all that. Speaking of inheritance, I haven’t seen your father around. Is he well?”

“He’s -” dying “- under the weather.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope his recovery is swift.”

The Mediwizard said Orion would be lucky to last two years. Regulus amps up his smile. No one outside his immediate family knows how sick his father is, and he intends to keep it that way.

“He’ll be fine,” Regulus assures. “Just a mid-life thing. You know how it goes.”

“My father was the same. He’s doing well now. Are you enjoying your holiday?”

“Mostly. I’ve had some coursework to do.”

Lucius arches a brow. “What subject?”

“Potions.”

“My favourite. It can be difficult if you aren’t alert and dedicated.”

“I’m very clever,” Regulus informs. There’s that laugh again. “Snape said he’s your plus one.”

“That he is.”

Regulus glances over at Snape. He isn’t looking, but if he were he’d be glaring.

“We don’t get on.”

“No?” He can’t tell if Lucius is actually surprised or not. “I thought you would. You’re in the same House, and you’re only one year apart. You must have spent a lot of time together.”

“That’s why,” Regulus says, “we don’t get on.”

Lucius hums like that’s really interesting. He probably just doesn’t know what to say.

Narcissa chooses that moment to announce it’s time to give Regulus his presents. It’s pretty transparent considering tradition is for presents to be given when guests leave and opened in private. When he catches her eye she smirks.

Most of the presents are kind of shit. On his eleventh birthday his mother made the mistake of telling people he likes books and he’s found himself swamped in them ever since. The ones from his family are actually decent: his grandmother’s is on robe design, his grandfather’s is on managing assets, and his aunt’s is a grimoire. Narcissa’s is a book about dating. Hilarious.

Bellatrix’s present is so traumatic he instantly has to block it from his mind. She announces it’s to ‘eviscerate his enemies’, and people laugh like it’s a joke but it’s not. Regulus gets a prickle of unease that’s starting to become familiar, but he tries to put it to one side.

The rest of the presents are either books, trinkets or Quidditch clothes. Walburga gets him a new broom, which he vows to try out as soon as he can. He knows this model. It’s very expensive.

Turns out Lucius got him a present. Regulus saves it for last because it feels suitably dramatic. He’s right. When it’s revealed all he can do is stare at it.

It’s the robes he liked. Lucius’ green shiny robes with the lovely collar.

“Obviously, you’ll have to take it to get altered,” Lucius says. People around look very impressed, but they don’t understand. Only Narcissa knows how significant this is. “Madam Malkin’s will be fine.”

Regulus runs his hand along the sleeve. This sleeve covered a Dark Mark. It will do again.

The Dark Lord doesn’t show up, in the end. Regulus isn’t sure how to feel about it. He admires the man a lot and wanted to impress him, but this party has been pretty unremarkable and there’s a few people here not in the know.

He wants to keep talking to Lucius, but Melania accosts him and then it’s heads of family and potential wives and future associates. His smiles get so fake his face feels like plastic. There’s too many people in the world. Some of them should get bumped off.

Towards the end of the night he hides in a nearby corridor for a breather. The walls are lined with paintings of flowers. Much nicer than House Elf heads. He’d be a lot happier living here than Grimmauld Place.

“You can’t seriously think you’re going to win,” Narcissa says behind him. Regulus spins.

“He gave me his robes, Cissy. I’m in there.”

“Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you have a chance.” She leans against the wall. She’s wearing a very nice dress. Purple. Bet it’s out of spite. “You go back to school in three days, Regulus. Have fun trying to woo him when you’re boarding in Scotland.”

It’s a very good point. He doesn’t have a comeback, so he walks to the vase displayed on a table and knocks it over.

“Oops,” Regulus says. “I can’t believe Snape knocked your vase over like that. That’s what you get for bringing people like that into a pureblood home.”

“You’re such a child,” Narcissa scoffs, repairing the smashed vase. It looks perfect, like it’s never even been touched. “Lucius won’t go for someone who behaves like that. He’ll go for a mature and beautiful lady.”

“He’ll go for his equal.”

Narcissa eyes the vase.

“Have fun at Hogwarts, Regulus,” she says. He doesn’t dignify it with a response.

\--

His bag is filled to the brim with Sleeping Potions. If he runs out he can ask Kreacher to send him more, but last time he did that Walburga intercepted his letter and sent one back telling him to stop being so pathetic and just go to bed like a normal person.

The journey back to Hogwarts is one of those days where he sees literally everyone in Britain. Sirius and his friends, Lily Evans, Snape…He’ll see the Tooth Fairy next. Gilderoy Lockhart tries to come into his cabin and talk, but Regulus very firmly pushes him out and locks the door. That kid followed him around for a solid two months last term before Regulus telling him to fuck off got accompanied by threats. Apparently even that wasn’t strong enough.

The book Arcturus sent on managing assets is boring, but Orion took a turn for the worse lately so Regulus tries his best to concentrate on it. He won’t be expected to take over the family straight away, but you never know when illness might come knocking for the older family members. Best to get a head start.

When he’s not reading he’s thinking about Lucius. Narcissa was right. It’s going to be virtually impossible to talk to him when he’s at Hogwarts. The only real opportunity is if he gets Lucius to meet him at Hogsmeade, but without a good excuse he’ll just seem pathetic.

A couple days after his birthday party the Dark Lord called a meeting. Everyone was under a mask, but Lucius has a very particular stride. Regulus watched him the whole way through. The Dark Lord wouldn’t like that. He wants to be the centre of the room, of his followers’ thoughts. Thoughts he likes reading. Regulus is lucky to be at Hogwarts, in a way. He gets excused from a lot of duties.

The excuse to meet up with Lucius ends up coming from Slughorn, of all people. He wants them to complete an independent research project to contribute towards their Potions grade.

“Feel free to speak to my older students,” Slughorn says, winking. “They’re very competent, and I’m sure they’re perfectly willing to help.”

Regulus is going to talk to an older student, but a lot older than the ones Slughorn is thinking of.

An exchange of letters and a week later, he’s meeting Lucius in The Three Broomsticks. He considered wearing the robes Lucius gave him, but they’re much too fancy for this. Instead he goes dark blue with silver edges. He kind of looks like a Ravenclaw, but the colours suit him extremely well. Red suits him more, but looking like a Gryffindor is just plain unacceptable.

Lucius compliments his robes straight away. Good. Regulus made the right choice.

“What’s this project you desperately need my help with?” Lucius dives right in. Regulus raises his brows. Fuck, he has a fringe now, is it still obvious when he does that? He’ll have to practise in front of the mirror later.

“I haven’t decided yet. Don’t you want to order drinks?”

“Am I paying for yours?”

“Are you?”

Lucius does pay. He has champagne and Regulus has cider. Alcohol-free.

“It’s an independent research project,” he explains, twizzling the straw. Lucius had thought it very funny when he asked for one. “It’s going to make up 15% of my final Potions grade. It has to be good.”

“Why ask me?”

Regulus shrugs.

“You’re the best person at Potions I know, other than Slughorn.” And Snape, but that’s a definite no. “He said we could talk to people about it.”

“I thought you’d already done your coursework for Potions. You told me you were working on it over Christmas break.”

He remembered. How flattering.

“That coursework was worth 10%,” Regulus informs. “And the topic was set. I can choose anything I want for this, within reason. But I don’t know what to do. It shouldn’t be too hard, but not too easy either. I want to do something original, but if it’s too out-there it might ruin everything. I don’t want it to be boring. I don’t want it to be distracting.”

“There’s really not a lot you could do to fit all those specifications.”

Regulus beams. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”

The Falmouth Falcons are his favourite Quidditch team. Before Regulus was born the Broadmoor brothers achieved a record number of suspensions for violence. He doesn’t think they’re the best team by any means. They’re the most fun. There’s something incredibly satisfying about how berserk the players get.

Sirius hated the Falmouth Falcons. Called them dirty cheaters. He always got this look on his face when Regulus bigged up how much he liked them, like he was personally offended to the core and was going to do something about it.

That’s the face Lucius has now.

“You’ve asked me to trail all the way to Hogsmeade so I can come up with the idea for _your_ Potions project?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea how out of line that is?”

“In what way?”

“In what way?!” Lucius looks like he’s about to explode, but Regulus can handle it. He rests his chin on his hand.

“I just think any idea you’d come up with would be far superior to whatever I could. And I…struggle with Potions, more than I should. I’m asking for your help.”

It’s the biggest lie going. Regulus is great at Potions. Lucius should know that, but his ego seems to be outweighing his intelligence.

“Oh,” Lucius says. “You should have said sooner. Fine, I’ll help you.” He’s acting like an emperor, all high and mighty and generous. It might be more entertaining than a Falmouth Falcons game. Very high praise. “But what’s in it for me?”

“Satisfaction.”

“I’m already a very satisfied man.”

“I can see why.” Lucius likes that. Compliments seem to be the route to go. “Do you play Quidditch?”

“Sometimes. I never joined the Slytherin team, but your cousin did. She tells me you’re on it?”

Did Narcissa tell him that before Hogwarts restarted, or have they seen each other since? Plenty of opportunities when you’ve left school and are too rich to need a job.

Regulus nods. “I Seek. Narcissa was a Chaser when she played. But we were never on the team at the same time. We should play.”

“Excellent idea,” Lucius says. “I’ll invite Narcissa next time I see her.”

Narcissa, Narcissa, Narcissa. There’s no way he talks about Regulus this much when he’s with her. Is she winning? She can’t be winning. Can she?

“Potions,” Regulus says. It comes out very abrupt. Not smooth. He hates being awkward. It reminds him of being a little kid and the awkwardest person to ever exist. “My project. I want to start it tonight. I need an idea.”

“Felix felicis.”

“Too hard to get hold of.”

“Polyjuice.”

Regulus shoots him a look. “Pedestrian.”

“Hmmm…Amortentia.”

Was. Uh. Was that –

“I’d have to use whatever it is on myself,” Regulus says slowly, not sure whether he should meet Lucius’ eyes or not. He ends up not having a choice. They’re magnetic. “I don’t want Slughorn to read about what smells I find attractive.”

“What smells do you find attractive?”

Lucius smells like lavender and something spicy. Regulus isn’t all that interested in perfumes, but Narcissa is. She’d probably be able to pinpoint it.

“Veritaserum would pose the same problem,” Regulus says in lieu of answering. “Everything safe to use feels too boring.”

Lucius nods in a very particular way, looking up and down the table before leaning closer. He’s had most of his champagne. It took him a while. Regulus finished his drink a while ago. Well. He left a tiny bit, so the straw wouldn’t loudly suck on air.

“An interesting idea,” Lucius begins, “would be to study two potions at once. A combination. Say, Draught of Peace and Confusing Concoction. They’re diametrically opposed. Someone has studied it before, I’m sure, but Slughorn will be impressed at your ingenuity and broader spectrum.”

“That,” Regulus says, “is a brilliant idea.”

This would be the perfect opportunity to ask Lucius to sit with him when he takes the potions and record his reactions, and also make sure he doesn’t die. The Draught of Peace wouldn’t be so bad, but if Lucius saw him under the effects of Confusing Concoction? Mortifying. No way.

“Obviously, don’t use those two,” Lucius says. Regulus is kind of tuned out. He’s staring off at Lucius’ face. What is Lucius even talking about? Something about ill effects, hospital visits…Sounds unimportant. The important thing is to impress Lucius.

They decide to keep in contact through letters. Regulus will update him about the state of his project, and Lucius will be his usual charming self. It’s a perfect deal.

That night he waits until everyone’s asleep to pull on the robes Lucius gave him. He never went to Madam Malkin’s, so they don’t fit, but the thought of some random stranger getting their greasy hands all over the embroidery, tugging and pulling and undoing, unsettles him to the core. He knows a thing or two about robe adjustment, and if he researches first it should be fine to do it himself.

Regulus stares at himself in the mirror. Moves his fingers over the collar. This collar would’ve looked better when his hair was still long, but it’s decent now.

He spends so long admiring his reflection that by the time he’s noticed how late it is it’s too late to take a Sleeping Potion without oversleeping. He tries to sleep the normal way for two hours before realising that it isn’t happening and deciding to plan out his project. He mostly just plans out how he’s going to score Lucius and he’s going to do it faster than Narcissa.

\--

Regulus thinks about the day he and Lucius spent in Hogsmeade a lot over the next week. He wanted to take him to Puddifoot’s, really hammer home the date angle, but that’d be a little too obvious. Slow and steady wins the race.

Instead they walked around a lot. Visited Honeydukes. They were noticed by a lot of Regulus’ classmates, and he waved at every single one. His friends are older and more sophisticated than theirs and it’s even cooler than they think.

When they parted Lucius promised to get in touch about that Quidditch game with Narcissa. It’ll probably just be them dicking about on their brooms, but any chance to show off is one he needs to take.

The Falmouth Falcons are having a match against Puddlemere United. Regulus was desperate to go, but it ended up falling at the same time as the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match, and there’s no reserve Seeker. Which is how he finds himself flying in the pouring rain towards a flash of gold while a quarter of the school cheers for him and the rest boo.

They used to put spells up to keep rain away, but a group of Gryffindors a while back said that wasn’t ‘exciting’ enough and now Regulus has to get slapped in the face with borderline hail almost every time there’s a game. Bet it was James Potter that suggested it. Speaking of, guess who’s just zoomed in front of him.

“Not so fast,” Potter says. The amount that Regulus can’t be bothered with whatever showdown is about to start. “You didn’t think you were going to win that easily, did you?”

He tries to go around but Potter moves with him. It’s like a role-reversal of being in the bathroom with Lucius, except with someone much worse.

A flash of gold goes past his eye. Sorry, James Potter, you’re just not interesting enough.

Regulus catches the Snitch five minutes later. Slytherin win the game. James Potter’s handshake hurts. He’s digging his nails in.

“Better luck next time,” Regulus says. Potter’s lips thin.

\--

He submits a proposal of a project studying the different effects of Draughts of Peace and Confusing Concoctions, then the effect of a potion combining the two. Slughorn approves it.


	3. Chapter 3

_19 th February, 1978_

He’s been exchanging letters with Lucius regularly (ha, Regulus-larly) (terrible, never say that out loud), but this is the first time they’ve talked in person since Hogsmeade. He dreads to think how many meetings Narcissa’s managed to squeeze in while he’s been away. Regulus needs to make the most of this half-term.

It’s cold, but not raining, which is the best you can hope for in an English February. They’re going to play a game of Quidditch. It won’t be a very good game, considering how few of them there are. Narcissa invited Bellatrix for some god unknown reason, so when Regulus arrives Rodolphus and Rabastan greet him with their brooms.

“Let’s go three v. three,” Narcissa says, opening her Quidditch box and pulling out the Quaffle. Regulus focuses his eyes on Lucius. His outfit resembles those of Quidditch players, and it’s the least good Regulus has ever seen him look. Disappointing. “Each team gets a Chaser, Beater and Keeper. Anyone’s free to Seek.”

Did she do this on purpose so Regulus can’t play his usual position? Narcissa was a Chaser when she played at Hogwarts, so she gets to play what she’s used to. Lucius announces he’ll play Keeper and that’s that, so Regulus is stuck as Beater. Which is. Whatever.

The thing that’s really worrying is that the other team’s Beater is Bellatrix.

He’s going to fucking die.

Unsurprisingly, Bella’s playing style is extremely violent. She’d do well on the Falmouth Falcons. Maybe she should look at doing that instead of murder.

Rabastan is a decent Chaser but Rodolphus is a terrible Keeper, so Regulus keeps sending Bludgers his way. This game could end in a brain injury. Or worse: in Lucius preferring Narcissa. Regulus is trying to show off how nimble and fast he is on a broom, but it’s tricky when you’re supposed to be whacking Bludgers at people.

He hits one at Rodolphus which straight-up knocks him from his broom. It’s the greatest moment of his life, until Bella aims one at him in retaliation.

It’s extraordinary that Regulus has manages to hold on, even if he spins a stupid number of times. He’s dizzy enough to feel drunk. Fuck.

But here Lucius is, pulling up beside him and steadying him. Even with blurry vision, Regulus aims a smirk towards Narcissa’s figure. It would have been very in-character for Lucius to leave him to sort this out himself, but no, the man likes him and doesn’t want him to get messed up by a Bludger from his crazy cousin.

“Rodolphus is shit,” Lucius murmurs, mouth right up to Regulus’ ear. It’s tingle-inducing. “Look at him, he can barely get back on his broom. And Bellatrix is easily distracted. We only need to come for Rabastan. Aim for him.”

Regulus nods sharply. Is he feeling better because he’s had time to recover, or because Lucius is holding his arm?

“Let’s go, boys!” Narcissa yells before she kicks into action. Lucius floats back to the makeshift goals. Regulus resists the urge to extend a longing arm after him. This is one of the dirtiest games of Quidditch he’s ever played. It’s what happens when you’ve got a full arsenal of Slytherins.

He stays low on his broom, heading towards the closest Bludger. It’s just begging for him to hit it. He may be a better Seeker, but damn if Beating isn’t the most satisfying thing going. And Rabastan’s smug face is starting to get on his nerves. Smugness looks best on Blacks and Malfoys. Lestranges aren’t allowed.

As soon as he’s sent a Bludger hurtling towards Rabastan the Snitch shows up right in front of his face. By the time he’s moved to grab it it’s fucked off across Narcissa’s garden.

He chases it. He’s a Seeker at heart, he always will be. It’s right there, if he can just stretch his arm a little more –

The Snitch flits away right as his hand bumps Narcissa’s.

“I’m getting it,” she says, eyes glorious and defiant and challenging. “I’m getting it and I’m getting him.”

“I’m a better Seeker,” Regulus tells her, already looking around the garden. Where’s the stupid thing got off to? The sun sits behind Lucius like a halo, like it was placed there specifically to make him look better. “I know how to Seek and I know how to catch.”

“And I know how to Chase.” Narcissa turns round on her broomstick. “I wonder which is better.”

It suddenly occurs to him that Narcissa is the only non-Death Eater here. What is that like, being surrounded by people in a borderline cult? Not that the Death Eaters are a cult. Their ideas are right and the Dark Lord is amazing and – they’re just not a cult, okay? Regulus is too smart to join a cult.

They duck simultaneously to avoid a Bludger from Bella. Lucius is a good Keeper and Narcissa is an excellent Chaser so they’re up on points, but Narcissa would still do well to leave the Snitch to him.

While they’re distracted Rabastan gets the Quaffle through a hoop. Rodolphus whoops loud enough to burst an ear drum.

“Right,” Narcissa says. “I’m not losing to them because we both want to catch the Snitch. I’ll keep scoring points, you go after it.”

Regulus grins. It’s good to be on the same side again.

“It’s a deal.”

The Snitch must have sensed it, because out it comes, right behind Lucius’ ear. He must hear it and go to catch it, allowing Rabastan to get another goal in. Regulus pauses in his chase to ‘accidentally miss a Bludger’ and hit Rabastan instead. Bella watches with glee.

“You fucking prick,” Rabastan seethes, rubbing his shoulder. Must be sore. What a shame. “You’ll pay for that, you dirty cheater.”

“You’re a dirty cheater too,” Regulus points out, and takes off towards Lucius. The Snitch is bouncing all around the side of the garden, but it keeps coming back to Lucius. He’s just about to catch it again when something yanks on his foot and he almost falls off his broom.

Fucking Rabastan. Can’t just take a bat to the arm like a sport. Looks like he’s given up winning as long as he sees Regulus lose, and dragging him off his broom seems to be the best way to do that.

Like a gift from the heavens, the Snitch moves towards his fingers. Lucius is watching with wide eyes. Does he want to see Regulus catch the Snitch or see if he gets pulled into freefall? Both? Both.

The Snitch flits away and almost into Narcissa’s hand.

“No need to score points now that they’re not,” she says hoarsely, panting for breath. Rabastan’s sweaty hand is still pulling down his leg. “Shit!”

She dodges to avoid a Bludger that would’ve taken her head clean off her shoulders. Bellatrix is like one of those sharks that dies if it stops moving, except instead of moving it’s murder. When he was a really little kid he fell in her pond and she just stood there giggling. Andromeda saved him by wading in herself to pull him out. Thinking about that makes that uneasy feeling come back.

The Snitch moves closer right as Rabastan finally gets Regulus off his broom.

The fucking thing hits him in the face on the way down. There’s a cushioning charm on the grass, so he’ll be fine, but Narcissa’s smug face is what’s really worrying.

The flash of gold to his side is like fate.

The world shifts when he hits the ground. Bella’s laughing in the distance. Rabastan’s taking a victory lap.

“Pick yourself off the ground,” Lucius shouts down. “This thing isn’t over yet.”

Regulus stands up and dusts his knees. For the drama.

“Yes it is,” he yells back, and raises his hand to show them the Snitch.

The other team are annoyed that they lost and Narcissa’s annoyed he beat her to the Snitch, so the only one to grin at him as a House Elf approaches to pack up is Lucius. Lucius praises him for his speed, his agility, how funny it was when he whacked Rabastan like a Bludger, and he rests his hand on Regulus’ shoulder the whole time.

“Nothing like a real game though,” Narcissa butts in. “You’ve lost real games, haven’t you, Regulus?”

Regulus narrows his eyes. “I beat Gryffindor last month.”

“Then you lost to Hufflepuff, right?”

Lucius snorts. Narcissa’s smile turns shit-eating.

“When I was in First Year I saw you throw a Quaffle at a hoop from right next to it and miss, so get off your high horse,” Regulus says. Lucius laughs, but in a charmed way. Which of them is he charmed by? Regulus needs to measure how charmed he is by each of them alone to know who’s winning, but Narcissa would lie and, honestly, so would he.

“I was wondering,” Lucius starts in a low voice, glancing at the Lestranges across the garden. “If the two of you would like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening. We’re having pheasant, and there’s this new soup you’re going to be wanting in your kitchens.”

He speaks like it’s a given that they’re both coming. It is.

\--

He’s playing Exploding Snap with his father. Playing is the wrong word for it. Better phrasing would be that he’s playing Exploding Snap against Kreacher while his father is lying in bed sweating.

Kreacher wins. If it was anyone else Regulus would get annoyed, but as it is he smiles.

“Look, Father,” he says, gesturing at the cards. “You won.”

Orion doesn’t respond.

Orion doesn’t do much of anything, these days. Sometimes he moans. Occasionally he calls Regulus Sirius and Regulus has to force a smile and act like he isn’t deeply offended. He thought the haircut might help, but Orion’s mind got worse right around when he had it, so there was no way to tell if it did.

“Let’s play again,” Regulus suggests, collecting the cards and starting to shuffle. “I’m going to win this time. I won’t go easy just because you’re dying.”

Orion shifts and Regulus has a mini heart attack. If Orion were awake to hear him say that he’d be in so much trouble. There’s some things he still won’t say just in case, like _me and Narcissa are having a competition to get Lucius Malfoy and I fancy him so much._

“Does Master Regulus want Kreacher to lose?” It’s the fifth time Kreacher’s asked. Regulus smiles.

“No, no, try your hardest.” Bless Kreacher’s soul for not pointing out how sad and weird of a habit this is. “It’s what Father would want.”

\--

He doesn’t know how formal of a dinner party this is, so he has no idea how formal to dress. It’s one of the hardest things he has to deal with.

In the end he decides to bring out the big guns. He wears the robes Lucius gave him.

Regulus altered them himself last month. It was painstaking, but worth sacrificing nights of sleep he wouldn’t have got without a potion anyway. The day he finished them was the happiest of his life. He posed in the front of the mirror for hours.

At that day’s Slug Club Lily Evans had walked right up to him and asked if he was okay.

“Sorry,” she’d said instantly. “I know we don’t talk, and there’s very good reasons, but you look really tired and last time I saw you was the same.”

He always thought she knew he was a Death Eater, but he must’ve been wrong. She looked at him like he was harmless, just Sirius’ baby brother who looked ill.

“I have trouble getting to sleep,” he told her. Evans perked up.

“Oh, I remember! Sirius told me about this. You have insomnia, right?”

“I what?” Is that some sort of illness? “Is that a Muggle thing?”

“Well, Muggles coined the term, but I’m sure wizards get it too. There’s potions you can take. Better not to use them too much, though, or your body ends up relying on them and you can get problems later down the road.”

Who did Lily Evans think she was, giving him advice for some Muggle problem which definitely isn’t Regulus’ problem? He told her it was fine. She’d looked doubtful, but dropped it. One day people like her won’t come to Hogwarts. It’ll be a triumph for wizardkind.

Lily Evans somehow becomes a topic at the dinner party. Regulus doesn’t hesitate to share his opinions. Then the topic is a baby peacock just born at Malfoy Manor. Then the Chinese Zodiac.

“I was born in the year of the snake,” Lucius proclaims proudly. “How about the two of you?”

Narcissa and Regulus sulk simultaneously.

“Horse.”

“Rat.”

“Ah,” Lucius says, looking very pleased. “Destiny didn’t quite work in your favour, there. Oh well, I’m sure the star signs aligned in some significant way.”

Lucius obviously just brought it up to show off. Joke’s on him, because Regulus is the one wearing green. When he showed up in the robes Lucius smiled like a man possessed. He was under the illusion that Regulus got them altered at Madam Malkin’s, and there was no need to correct him.

“You’re such a try-hard,” Narcissa whispered when Lucius was giving his House Elves instructions. “He doesn’t like try-hards.”

Regulus stood on her foot.

Which is how most of the dinner party has become a match of who can boot each other the hardest under the table without Lucius noticing. His ankle stings from where Narcissa dug her high heel in. Wearing shoes that reveal her toes was a mistake, though, because Regulus manages to push them right back.

“How’s your Potions project?” Lucius asks. Narcissa’s heel is crushing his little toe. Regulus smiles through the pain.

“I’ve written up my plan and hypothesis and everything. I’m doing the actual experimenting this break.”

“I’m glad you took my advice.”

“Yeah.” Ow. “It was great advice.”

“I can’t believe Slughorn’s making you do so much before the exam,” Narcissa cuts in. Regulus takes advantage of Lucius looking at her and slams his foot on top of hers. Her foot retracts with only a slight grimace. “My Potions NEWT was all exam.”

“Some students don’t test well. And Slughorn let it slip that the usual Potions examiner has gone missing abroad so he’s adding more and more coursework and thinks none of us have noticed.”

“I think it’s a positive,” Lucius says. “Slughorn likes you, so he’ll give you a good grade. If he doesn’t like someone they likely don’t deserve a good grade. It works.”

“I can’t wait to leave school,” Regulus tells him. Narcissa uses both her feet to catch one of his and twist it away. “It’s so boring there. All the people are so…Well, they’re people. You know how it is. When I’ve left I’ll be free to do what I want.”

“And what is it you want to do, Regulus?”

It’s like Lucius is staring right into his soul. It’d be very romantic is Narcissa wasn’t trying to tear his foot off.

“I want to be the Dark Lord’s greatest follower,” Regulus says. Narcissa’s feet stop moving. “I’m sure you can relate.”

Lucius looks at his plate.

“Such discussions are inappropriate,” he declares. Narcissa’s face is very, very blank. She did know, didn’t she? She stared at his arm that time, she must know. Did she know about Lucius? “But you may be correct.”

“Don’t you agree, Narcissa?” Regulus says abruptly, meeting her gaze. Her hand shakes when she picks up her drink. It’s not something most people would notice. He’s just special.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A weak excuse. Surely Lucius must prefer him now. His fellow Death Eater, and not a girl who’s side he doesn’t know. “I’m still hungry. What’s for dessert?”


	4. Chapter 4

_22 nd February, 1978_

The rain taps lightly against the window, the bushes rustle in the streets, and everything is fine.

Draughts of Peace are lovely. Everyone should have them. When he goes to bed tonight he won’t need a potion. His life is fine. He is fine. Everything is perfect.

He got so stressed at the draught this morning. They’re tricky to make, a single tiny mistake and the whole thing’s caput. Now he feels silly for freaking out when he almost put the beetroot in before the shrivelled slug. It was always going to work out okay. That’s what things do.

Like this little game with Narcissa. He’s going to win. Even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t matter. He’ll marry Lucius Malfoy one day. It’s inevitable. The Black heir and the Malfoy heir combining to become one. The two best families. Their wedding robes are going to be incredible. Regulus should start designing them now.

His father called him Sirius before and now he doesn’t care. Isn’t that nice? He should go see Sirius. The only time they’ve spoken recently was an argument about flapjacks (don't ask) and what’s disownment in the grand scheme of things, really? Brothers are supposed to spend time together. He’s going to spend time with Sirius and tell him about how he’ll marry Lucius and Sirius can be his best man.

According to Kreacher, this is a horrible idea.

“Master isn’t himself at the moment,” Kreacher insists. God he loves Kreacher. Best person in this household by a straight ten miles. “Master told Kreacher not to let him make big decisions.”

“That was when I was moody,” Regulus explains. His smile is so sunny it should be blinding. Smiles are lovely. Everyone should smile all the time. “But I’m happy now. I think I have some potion left, you should have some. You’ll feel better.”

Kreacher’s forehead creases.

“But Kreacher isn’t feeling bad, Master Regulus.”

“I’m not your _master_ ,” Regulus says, rolling his eyes. He’s floating on an ocean. Is there water in his mouth? No, his mouth is dry. It’s okay, he’ll have something to drink and everything will be fine. “I’m your friend.”

Kreacher stares at him for a very long time.

“Perhaps Master Regulus should go to bed.” It’s one of the only things he’s ever said which isn’t complete servitude, and even then it’s in the meekest voice imaginable.

“I could go to bed,” Regulus agrees. “Or I could not. I don’t mind.”

He walks around the house a bit while he’s making up his mind. Walburga is at her friend’s, so it’s just him, Kreacher, and a dying man. Regulus pops in to check on Orion and ends up sitting next to him for an hour blathering about how everything’s going to be fine.

“Like, my arm is like this, which is weird, but it’ll work out. Things do.”

Is Orion watching him? Fuck, he is. Regulus should scramble back. He smiles.

“Are you awake, Father?”

“Regulus,” Orion says, “why are you speaking so slowly?”

“I’ve taken a Draught of Peace,” Regulus explains. “As part of my Potions independent research project.”

Orion sits up in his bed. It’s the most he’s moved himself for months.

“That is the least realistic explanation for anything I’ve ever heard,” Orion says. He’s sweating from the effort of sitting up. Then again, he does have a fever, so maybe it’s that. “Tell me what you’ve taken, boy.”

“Draught of Peace.”

“You’re lying to me. Tell me the truth, or face the consequences.”

“I am telling you the truth.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I can prove it to you. I’ll show you the vial and my project so far. There’s some of the draught left, maybe you could have some?”

Orion agrees with a thunderous expression, but insists Regulus leave his wand with him so he can’t alter them. Regulus doesn’t even have his wand. He has to summon Kreacher to give it to him. Kreacher could just bring the potion and his notes, but Orion probably wants to ask in private whether Regulus is lying.

He spends the walk back to his room musing that if his father weren’t bedbound, he’d be in so much trouble right now. As it is Orion could tell Walburga and the amount of trouble he’d be in would be legendary. Sirius would have nothing on him. But being in trouble with your parents is whatever. There are worse things in life. Being in trouble with Lucius Malfoy? That would be bad.

“I’ve got them,” Regulus tells his father, holding them up with pride. “Look, see, I wasn’t lying. Draught of Peace.”

Orion squints.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“You told me to bring these.”

“I did no such thing.”

Kreacher is starting to look very sad. Orion’s eyes are foggy and the realisation hits Regulus slowly, calmly, like a Quidditch accident in slow-motion.

“You forgot,” Regulus says, “because you’re not well.”

His father doesn’t believe him. Keeps insisting that he’s fine, he wants to be in bed, he hasn’t forgotten shit. In the end Regulus just walks out. It’s the boldest thing he’s ever done in front of his parents, but it doesn’t matter. Orion won’t even remember that he came by.

\--

Regulus bought Walburga and Druella tickets to an owl display so he can take the Confusing Concoction in peace the next day. His notes on the Draught of Peace’s effects are complete, so he’s a third of the way through the testing section of his project.

The Draught of Peace came into effect slowly, but the Confusing Concoction hits all at once. There’s vomit on his floor. Did he do that? Blacks don’t vomit, except that they do.

It’s afternoon but it’s dark outside. No, no, that’s the hallway. The hallway is dark. Outside is light. What if someone sees him? Better draw the curtains. Now he’s on the floor. Drawing the curtains shouldn’t have made him fall over but here we are.

Lucius is going to choose Narcissa. Of course he will. Why wouldn’t he?

“Kreacher,” Regulus says. “Where am I?”

“Master Regulus is in his room,” Kreacher says, helping him to sit up. Orion struggled up this way, too. Now the effort makes more sense. “He commanded Kreacher to bring him a bucket.”

He doesn’t remember doing that, but the bucket comes in handy when he’s sick.

The Draught of Peace shouldn’t have done this. It’s going to ruin his whole project. What sort of Draught of Peace makes people sick? Priam Lestrange was sick at the Slug Ball and Lucius Malfoy curled up his lip. Regulus tried curling up his lip in the mirror once but he just looked stupid. Like a snotty little brat.

The Draught of Peace didn’t do this. This was the Confusing Concoction. It seems to be doing its job.

He tries to write notes on the effects but words keep slipping away. Then he throws up on his notes. They get left on the floor for Morning Regulus to deal with. That guy won’t be under the effects of a potion, he’s in a much better position to sort things out than Current Regulus.

Maybe he can win Lucius Malfoy. Or maybe Narcissa and he will end up sharing him. It’s not like Regulus and Lucius can get married without a complete social turnaround, but Lucius and Narcissa could, and Regulus could go and visit them all the time and people would think it’s just normal visits to see his cousin but Narcissa will be out and Lucius will meet him at the door and –

What did Lily Evans say he had? That Muggle thing? Isosceles? Maybe he does have isosceles, because there’s no way he’s getting to sleep tonight. She said not to take Sleepless Potions too much or your body ends up relying on them. He’s taken one almost every night for years. He can’t sleep without them. She is smart. But she’s Muggleborn. But. This was a bad idea.

Kreacher makes him drink something. Water? No, it’s from a vial.

He wants to ask what it is but ends up making a weird noise instead. Kreacher looks concerned.

“Master Regulus instructed Kreacher to give him the last of the Draught of Peace when he got too confused,” Kreacher blurts out. Oh. He did do that. But he’s not _that_ confused. He’s fine. Really. “To calm you.”

“I’m perfectly calm,” Regulus tries to say, but what comes out is, “M pft cm.”

Boy, is he glad he chose to have Kreacher watch him. He’d never win the competition if Lucius saw him vomit all over the carpet.

\--

He convinced Narcissa to convince Melania to go shopping with his mother the next day, so he might as well get this part of the project done while Walburga’s out.

He pours both potions into a bowl at the same time. A horrible hissing noise rings through the house. He takes it as a sign from Slytherin that this is a cunning and brilliant idea.

Once he’s stirred enough to be confident that they’ve mixed, he downs the entire bowl.

It’s fine for like five seconds. Then the world zooms in and goes far away and everything’s vibrating, just a bit, but it’s getting worse. His hand is shaking like crazy and all he can do is stare at it. Is this a sleep deprivation thing? No, he actually managed to sleep last night. This is pure bad decisions.

Kreacher’s in front of him. Speaking. It’s fine that Regulus doesn’t know what he’s saying. No it’s not. It’s scary.

Regulus shouldn’t be surprised when he throws up. Better write that down, that’s a Confusing Concoction effect, and oh god he threw up blood. That is blood. Oh god.

Kreacher’s under his arm, trying to hold him up. The world bends and threatens to break. It sounds like someone’s screaming.

“- get Mistress -” Kreacher is saying. Regulus manages to cut through the dizziness and the bouts of calm and the thoughts swirling around to gasp out not to get his mother, get Narcissa.

Everything fades in and out. The floor feels so weird. Where the fuck is his wand? Is it still with his father? He took it back. It’s on his bedside drawer. If he could just reach it, like he reached for the Snitch, maybe he could do something, anything, to make this more bearable.

A blonde figure looms in front of him. Narcissa. No. Lucius. Oh god, how embarrassing.

“I puked blood,” Regulus says. He’s pretty sure blood’s dripping down his chin when he says it. Lucius looks horrified. Let’s hope he finds stupidity charming.

\--

Getting told off by five Healers consecutively is not fun. Apparently a Draught of Peace and Confusing Concoction should never be taken together, because your body tries to do two opposite things at once and ends up a mess.

“I thought they’d cancel out,” he tells Healer Baddock, the latest one to have a go at him in the politest terms they can manage. “One’s about being confused and one’s about being calm. I had a Confusing Concoction before and a Draught of Peace made me feel better.”

“It’s one thing to have one and then the other, but you had both at once.” Healer Baddock thinks he’s an idiot, but she’s not allowed to say it. “What were you thinking?”

“That they’d cancel out. I just said.”

“Well, you’re lucky your cousin found you. She’s here, by the way. Refused to leave until you were okay.”

It’s phrased like Narcissa’s upset, but she looks perfectly calm when she comes in. Regulus stares at her. There’s literally nothing he can say to make this less embarrassing.

Baddock leaves like she can sense the tension. The door clangs behind her.

“You,” Narcissa says, “are so fucking stupid.”

“I’ve been told.”

“Why would you ever have both of those potions at once? I looked it up and it says in plenty of books what happens.”

“I thought my project would be better if I didn’t do research first,” Regulus admits. “I didn’t want it to cloud my judgement. And yes, I see the irony.”

“I’m glad you see something. There I was, showing Lucius around my house, hoping to get some, and your House Elf comes bumbling in yelling about how you’ve fucked up your body for a _school project_. Christ, Regulus.”

Blacks don’t apologise for things. They just don’t. They sulk out the window of their private rooms in St. Mungo’s. It’s tradition.

“I can’t believe Lucius saw me like that. Guess you’ve won.”

“Lucius was very concerned for you. And I think he’s charmed by stupidity. It makes him feel superior because he’d never be stupid enough to take those potions together.” Narcissa hesitates for so long he wonders if she’s been frozen. “He said he’d already told you what would happen if you did this. I just want you to tell me the truth. Did you do this on purpose?”

That’s out of line enough to make him whip around.

“What?”

“Please,” Narcissa says, voice small. He stops. “I’m worried about you. This game, it’s been fun, but it’s not about you getting hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It wasn’t on purpose. Lucius used them as an example and then I tuned out. I thought they’d cancel out and it’d be fine.”

“I looked at your arm when you were out of it.” Narcissa sounds like she’s about to cry and it’s getting very hard to look her in the face. “That group, they’ve got some ideas but they’re dangerous. And you’re so young. I keep forgetting that you’re so young. They shouldn’t have accepted you. If I’d have known, I would have done something.”

“I thought you did know. You gave my arm a look, so.”

“When was this?”

“The day we started the competition.”

“Oh,” Narcissa murmurs. “That day.” She’s actually crying for the next part. “I thought your sleeves were ugly.”

Some distant part of him is very offended that she thinks he’d ever wear anything ugly. A closer part is shaken by him misreading someone he thought he never would. But the biggest part of him just feels sad.

“But you agree with their ideas,” he says. “You _like_ their ideas.”

“I don’t like the thought of you being part of them. You’re like my brother. I would’ve preferred you to the siblings I did get, and I know you feel the same way about me. That group, they can enact change, but they can get killed or go to Azkaban just as easily. You’ve signed your life away to them and you’re only seventeen.”

For no reason at all, Regulus says, “I joined when I was sixteen.”

Narcissa stares at the ground. “I don’t think this game is a good idea anymore.”

“If you’re saying that you must be losing.”

She laughs without humour.

“I don’t even know anymore. Only he knows who he prefers. But if you’re in that group and he’s in that group and you’ve ended up in hospital -”

“I ended up here because I made a stupid mistake. I won’t make it again. I’m happy to continue with the game, but only if you are.”

“He’s outside, you know. In the waiting room.”

Regulus’ eyes flit to the door.

“Which of us is he waiting for?”

Narcissa tells him that she doesn’t know. Regulus wonders if Lucius knows, himself.

When Regulus gets cleared Lucius shows up to escort him home. He isn’t allowed to Apparate, so they climb into a carriage and he’s sure it’ll be significant who Lucius sits next to, but then it ends up being him on one side and Narcissa and Regulus on the other. What does it mean, what does any of this mean, when did he start analysing every interaction and gesture like they weren’t enough by themselves?

“I can’t think why you thought taking those particular potions at once would be a good idea,” Lucius says once they’re moving. Regulus is going to be hearing a lot of that over the next few days. “I warned you of the consequences.”

“I wasn’t listening.”

Lucius looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or rage. “Still, you should have done some research.”

“I thought it’d be fine,” Regulus defends. “Slughorn approved it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, Slughorn approved it. Have you gone deaf?”

“That blithering old fool,” Lucius seethes. Oh, shit. The basilisk awakes. “I wish I was surprised. He let his star student take a potion mix which could have done permanent damage. We will be having words.”

Regulus wants to be taken aback by how much Lucius apparently cares about him, or maybe just kids in general not being allowed to half kill themselves, but he gets stuck on ‘star student’. With a name like Regulus, you’re technically always the star student. He was named well.

“I’m going to Owl him,” Narcissa says. Lucius shakes his head in a way that really highlights how nice his hair is.

“No, the man needs to be confronted. He’s obviously gone senile after so many years of teaching.”

“He’s in his sixties,” Regulus says. “People in their sixties don’t tend to be senile.”

“You were practically senile this morning,” Narcissa points out. Merlin, that was a good burn. Shame no one but the three of them will ever hear it. “Lucius, dear, perhaps it’s better to keep Slughorn on side.”

Sorry, back up, she just said dear. She called him dear and he didn’t object.

 _‘I don’t know who’s winning,’ my arse._ Regulus glowers at her but she doesn’t even spare him a glance.

At home his mother informs him he is a disappointment, silly and reckless, and that he has endangered the entire Black line and better marry well and pray his stupidity isn’t passed down to his children. Terribly sorry, Mother, won’t happen again, it’s just that I wasn’t listening when Lucius Malfoy told me not to because I was too busy eyeing him up.

Lucius does go to confront Slughorn, who apparently becomes very concerned when he hears what Regulus did. Slughorn thought Regulus was just going to research the effects and not use himself as a human guinea pig. In all fairness, his proposal did just say ‘study’ and ‘ingest myself’.

His write-up is great. Should get top marks.


	5. Chapter 5

_25 th February, 1978_

Deciding that Regulus could do with a treat after what has now become The Potion Incident, Lucius gets him a ticket to the Falmouth Falcons vs. Tutshill Tornadoes match. It’s high-profile and it was sold out minutes after tickets went on sale, so Merlin knows how he managed it, but they’re going and they have VIP seats and Regulus is stupidly excited.

Narcissa isn’t coming. She wasn’t invited. Is this a date? This might be a date. It better be a date.

“I don’t even care if they win,” Regulus informs as they take their seats. “I just want to see them cause some damage.”

Lucius eyes him. “I don’t think you realise how similar to your cousin you can be.”

“Narcissa and I are practically twins.”

“I meant Bellatrix.”

Regulus’ mouth drops open. It takes a minute of stunned silence to process that and another minute to come to terms with it.

“Bellatrix,” he repeats, trying not to think about the fact that Bella joined the Death Eaters too and Lucius might not be entirely wrong. “I’m not -”

“You look like Bellatrix, you have a similar sense of humour, you have the same laugh. And believe me, you and Narcissa are far from twins. Never mind the age gap, she’s more honest and you’re more studious.”

“You want me to be honest?” Regulus demands. “I don’t think your outfit today is very good.”

“Neither is yours.” How dare he. This outfit is the colour of the Falmouth Falcons, what else was he supposed to wear, it fits perfectly and goes very well with his shoes. “I don’t want you to be like Narcissa, Regulus. I want you to be yourself.”

How romantic.

The problem is that it could also be construed as a normal sappy thing from a family friend. He fantasizes about demanding an explanation and kissing him here in front of everyone, but the looming thought of how fucked he’d be if he did ruins that. Can’t stop being a Black even in a daydream.

The Falmouth Falcons are absolutely brilliant, by which he means violent. Martyna Klis gets reprimanded for doing what Regulus did and whacking another player with her bat, very clearly on purpose. It’s stupendous. It’s show-stopping. It’s the best thing Regulus has ever seen.

“This might be the best day of my life,” Regulus says. Lucius looks very pleased.

The Tutshill Tornadoes win. Everyone else wearing Falmouth Falcons colours is upset, but Regulus is not like most people. The Falmouth Falcons caused chaos. Mission accomplished. Great Quidditch match.

“If every Quidditch team played like the Falmouth Falcons, I’d support every single one.”

Lucius hums. “Are you so violent when you play at Hogwarts?”

“I wish I could be, but I’d get disqualified. Falmouth Falcons get in enough trouble as it is and they have thousands of die-hard fans. I’ve got about two.”

“You made a decent Beater when we played.”

“I’m a Seeker. It’s what I was made for. If the Seeker spot hadn’t been open I wouldn’t have played.” Or he would’ve got the current Seeker booted off the team, but there’s no need to get into all that. “Let’s eat out.”

There’s a restaurant Regulus went to as a kid that he loved, but his parents didn’t so they never went back. It’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but that’s the way of things. Lucius has the same face his parents did: unimpressed. Whatever. Regulus is going to have a great time and a nice meal and no one can stop him.

Lucius leans forward over the menu.

“Why is there a tree in the middle of this restaurant?”

“It’s a cool design element.”

Lucius eyes it with dismay.

“It’s dirty.”

“It’s nowhere near us. And it looks nice.”

Lucius decides that he hates the tree and lets every waiter know. Regulus orders the most expensive starter, then the most expensive main, then the most expensive dessert. What a pair they make. He’s tempted to try for a game of footsie, but Lucius is all about reputation and Regulus still doesn’t know exactly what’s between them.

Fortunately, Regulus is exceptionally well-bred. If he can’t play footsie he can at least show off how well he knows his etiquette. He knows which spoons go with which part of the meal, how to drink a cup of tea with his pinkie sticking out, and how to be passive aggressive as hell.

Lucius pays the full bill without even asking. If he’d changed into a more stylish outfit after the match, it’d be a perfect date.

Afterwards Regulus gets a full tour of Malfoy Manor’s gardens and interior. He starts to wonder if Narcissa’s already had this tour, but consciously puts it out of his head. This day is about him and Lucius.

It’s kind of funny that it’s called Malfoy Manor. Merlin knows the Blacks are vain, and even their ancestral home isn’t named after them. Was Malfoy Manor built specifically for the Malfoys, or bought from some ancient wealthy family? Lucius doesn’t mention. What he does mention is a whole line of Malfoys and their accomplishments, and just how much wealth he has. It would be a very impressive amount, if he weren’t talking to their heir of the Black fortune. Regulus nods a lot and tries to look very impressed.

Regulus is slowly but steadily moving closer. Hand brushes, close contact, the whole works. Lucius has to know by now what he’s doing. If not, he must be thick. Narcissa hasn’t been discreet with her dates and dears, so there’s no need to hold back. Pull out all the stops without actually crossing the line. Maybe he should cross the line soon. The only worry is the rumours. If it ever got back to his parents, Sirius would soon find himself in a very privileged position.

“It’ll be a shame when you go back to Hogwarts,” Lucius remarks. This tour would be so much better if they were linking arms. “I’ll miss your company.”

“We can write.”

“I’m aware.”

Lucius probably gets his House Elves to write for him. He’s that kind of guy.

“I like writing,” Regulus says, looking towards the setting sun. “I wouldn’t mind being a writer someday.”

“You’re not going to be anything.”

Fucking what.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Just stating a fact. You have no need to work. You have an entire fortune waiting for you.”

It didn’t sound like the nice thing Lucius intended it as. It sounded ominous as all hell. Lucius better be shit at Divination. He better not be the seventh son of the seventh son.

“Oh.” Lucius Malfoy is an only child. You know this. Calm the fuck down. “Right.”

Lucius’ hand twitches up and then down. It’s trajectory seemed to be Regulus’ face. Shame. He could do with a nice caress right now.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you,” Lucius says. “With our…mutual friends.”

Meeting tomorrow. It’s bizarre that that stuff’s still happening while Regulus is so focused on the game and school and fucking up potions.

“I suppose so,” Regulus says, and pushes away the disappointment of being left to stand alone.

It’d be just like the Dark Lord to keep track of when he’s in school and when he’s not, so off to the Death Eater meeting he goes.

It’s exactly like the last Death Eater meeting he went to, but a bit more scary. And boring. The Dark Lord has about two things to say and, yes, they’re things Regulus agrees with, but he’s heard them from his mother about three thousand times. Old news, Voldemort. Tell us the plan.

In all fairness, things are getting a bit more serious. And most people here are older than Regulus, he can tell that even with the masks on.

 _I keep forgetting that you’re so young,_ Narcissa had said. Regulus keeps forgetting that, too. He can acter older and more mature all he wants, but it won’t suddenly make him five years older.

The deep and uncomfortable thoughts get interrupted by a Death Eater who is _clearly_ Bella creasing up about something the Dark Lord said that really wasn’t that funny. Unbelievable that Lucius accused him of having the same laugh as her. So insulting. Regulus doesn’t sound deranged when he laughs. He has a nice laugh. Barty Crouch told him so.

\--

“You should choose a wife,” his mother says halfway through dinner one day, and he almost drops his fork.

What was an already strained and awkward family tradition has become borderline unbearable. With their inner family halved, it’s just Walburga going on at length about the usual things she goes on about and Regulus agreeing whenever she pauses to take a breath.

“I didn’t realise it was so important,” he says, stabbing at a piece of lobster. Walburga sniffs. 

“Ordinarily it wouldn’t be, but our situation has become…unique. My brother wasn’t expecting to have all daughters, and I wasn’t expecting to have to disown an heir.” He wants to point out that she didn’t _have_ to do anything, but he doesn’t feel like getting murdered today. “You should procreate soon.”

Today on Things Regulus Arcturus Black Did Not Want To Hear. He should get a new plaque and staple it to his head. Do Not Say Horrible Things To Me Without My Permission.

“Procreate,” he repeats. “With a wife.”

Walburga’s eyes narrow. “Problem with that?”

“No. No. That’s fine. I’ll spend some time with the girls at school, see if anyone’s suitable.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“Finish your food.”

Regulus has never liked lobster and has always been too afraid to say it. At Hogwarts he eats vegetarian, but in Grimmauld Place that’s not an option.

Thank god for family dinners, though, because two packages managed to get to his room without being intercepted by his mother first. Two whole packages. Check him, Mr Popular.

The first is a scarf from Narcissa. His favourite material. It smells lovely. And just a small note to go with it: _Don’t forget where you come from._ He has no idea what that means and isn’t willing to admit it even to himself, so he pretends she’s just reminding him that they’re related.

The second is from Lucius, and his heart straight-up skips a beat. It’s half real quills and half sugar ones, with a letter explaining they’re for writing when he’s away and a snack to have while he writes. Regulus’ sugar tooth is mentioned. He’s becoming less mysterious by the minute.

Maybe he should send Lucius a gift sometime, but he kind of likes just receiving them. Makes him feel wooed. And there, ladies and gents, is a statement he will never say out loud.

He can keep this up while he’s at Hogwarts. All the materials he needs are right here.


	6. Chapter 6

_7 th March, 1978_

“Hey, Reggie, wait up!”

Nobody calls him Reggie and gets away with it. Nobody except for –

“Sirius,” Regulus says. His brother is the last person he thought would come to speak to him. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“That’s new. I thought we were avoiding talking.”

“Well,” Sirius says, “we’re not now.”

“Not talking, or not avoiding it?”

“Stop being like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like _yourself_.”

It’s very fair. Regulus resists the urge to smile.

“I was just going to ignore you forever,” Sirius goes on. Also very fair. “But I’ve heard some rumours lately. People are saying you’re friends with Lucius Malfoy.”

Regulus now has to suppress a moony smile. He fiddles with his bag.

“Friends is one word for it.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be. He’s bad news, Reg. He’s dangerous. He’s into the Dark Arts.”

“Unlike the rest of our family.”

“This is serious fucking business! You know what else people were saying? That you were in hospital this break. That you were really hurt. What happened?”

Oh, god. Who’s been telling people he went to St. Mungo’s? Who even knew? The gossip mill’s churning and it’s churning about him. He doesn’t care about the Lucius bit, people at school can theorise all they like about him and Lucius, but him going to hospital for an ill-advised Potions project isn’t something he wants everyone talking about.

“Nothing happened,” Regulus says. “It was stupid. It’s fine.”

Sirius stares at him for a very long time before sighing.

“Did Lucius Malfoy do something to you?”

“No.”

“It’s just that you’re not a clumsy person and you’re hanging out with him and then you end up in hospital and people saw him there -”

“I fucked up a potion,” Regulus interrupts. Sirius looks doubtful. “I combined a Draught of Peace and a Confusing Concoction and I thought it’d be fine and it wasn’t. Kreacher got Narcissa and Lucius happened to be with her. That’s all.”

“Lucius was with _Narcissa?_ What, does he fancy her?”

“I think so.”

“Ugh, gross. For _her_. You know what, they deserve each other. Bet they get married and have the blondest, prissiest kid ever born.”

Regulus doesn’t need the reminder of how much more suited Narcissa and Lucius are, thank you very much.

“If Lucius Malfoy did do something to you, you can tell me,” Sirius says. That’s it, Regulus has to laugh, even if Sirius gets super offended. “God, fuck me for trying to help! Catch me doing that again.”

“Good. I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t even need it, so.”

“So you’re an idiot.”

“You’ve told me that before.”

“I’m telling you again. Maybe if I keep saying it one day it’ll get through your thick skull.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“I hate you,” Sirius says, half joking and half not. As much as Regulus likes to boast about how dissimilar they are, it’s not entirely true. “Why’s it so hard for you to just be honest?” Annnnd there the moment goes. Balance restored.

“I am being honest!” No one can make him annoyed like Sirius, swear down. “How come whenever I lie everyone believes me and when I tell the truth I get accused of lying?”

“That’s what you get for lying all the time. You’re the boy who cried wolf.”

“It’s the boy who cried werewolf.”

“Well, I want to say wolf. Politer.”

“You’ve never been polite a day in your life.”

“Sorry, Mr Perfect. You know, I’m perfectly polite to people who are nice to me.”

“Can we finish this? I’m going to be late for class.”

“Right, why talk to your estranged brother when you could be going to Care of Magical Creatures?”

“I’m going to Ancient Runes.”

“Have a shit time,” Sirius snaps before storming off. It’s like talking to his mother. One of these days Sirius is going to storm off in a huff from something he really shouldn’t.

Sirius isn’t the only one concerned. Dirk Cresswell, the Muggleborn that’s only said two words to him before, asks if he’s feeling okay because he looks exhausted. When Regulus works very hard to cross cultural boundaries and says that he has isosceles, Cresswell confusedly asks what having a triangle has to with looking tired. Just another sign that communication is impossible and their cultures don’t belong together.

The first letter from Lucius falls on his plate two days in. He’s come to recognise the handwriting by now, and Regulus doesn’t manage to contain the goofy-arse smile when it shows up. Sirius is watching across the hall, so Regulus waves and gets a middle finger in return.

They write more frequently than last half-term. Every letter Regulus writes is more openly romantic than the last, but he goes back and re-writes after to make it more socially acceptable. No one but Lucius should be reading these, and even if someone does he can say it was a joke, but still. Best to be careful.

It’s not fair. Narcissa and he aren’t playing by the same rules. She could publicly declare love for Lucius right now and keep her reputation. It isn’t even safe for Regulus to write a fucking letter.

When he submits his completed Potions project Slughorn apologises at length for the misunderstanding. The whole ‘rest assured my dear boy, if I’d known you were planning to ingest them I would never have approved it!’ is expected, and exactly why Regulus hands it in in private.

Slytherin beats Ravenclaw. All Regulus can think when he proudly presents the Snitch is that he wishes Lucius was here to see. His letter that night boasts about how Seeker is the only position worth playing, feeling the whole game hinge on you and only a Seeker can truly win a game. Lucius sends a custom-made Quidditch outfit as a congratulatory gift. He may or may not spend the entire evening pretending to catch the Snitch in them in his dorm.

He does eventually cave and send things in return. Sweets from Honeydukes, books he’s read an unholy number of times and would love to discuss, lists of recommended robe designs…He wants to share everything. Put his whole life on a canvas and send it through the mail.

This time it’s Lucius who inquires about when he’s next visiting Hogsmeade, and if he can stop by and discuss the book on Quidditch Regulus sent.

“I felt it would be best discussed in person,” Lucius explains when they rendezvous at the edge of the village. It’s so stupid, Regulus saw his face and felt giddy. He’s starting to feel like he’s in a long-distance relationship with someone he’s never even kissed. “The fabric of your outfit looks lovely.” 

Always knows just what to say.

Regulus suggests Madam Puddifoot’s. When Lucius declines he thinks he’s lost the bet, but it turns out reputation is the game at stake here. Instead they go for a ride through the hills on the carriage Lucius brought along. Like courting, but not allowed.

For the most part they get away with it, but when Regulus climbs out the carriage at Hogsmeade he sees Severus Snape watching with his beady little eyes.

\--

“Who are you writing to, Reg?” Barty Crouch asks in the common room. Regulus smiles and twirls the quill.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

Snape fumbles and spills his entire cup of tea, but manages to cling on to the cup. Regulus watches without making a single move to help.

“Why are you writing to him?” Snape demands. Regulus’ smile gets even wider.

“That’s for me to know and you to never know. Crouch, how do you spell ‘amorous intentions’?”

Crouch laughs like mad. Snape moves closer, but Regulus folds the letter before he can see.

“You’re good at spelling,” Snape accuses. It’s the most complimentary accusation Regulus has ever received. “You and your cousin are all over Malfoy recently, it’s really weird. Are you having some competition to see who can woo him first?”

“Never say woo again,” Regulus instructs. Yikes, Snape may be joking but if he starts rumours in the Black family it could spell trouble. “I don’t see how who I spend my time with is any business of yours. It’s actually weird that you noticed at all. Are you stalking me like you stalked that Mudblood? Am I Lily Evans 2.0?”

“Piss off.”

“I was sat here first.”

“I was at Hogwarts first.”

“I was part of the Wizarding World first,” Regulus says boredly, unfolding and skimming his letter but careful to keep it out of reach. “Someone play Exploding Snap with me. By someone I mean Crouch and not you.”

One day they’ll have a conversation that ends without Snape storming off. That day is not today.

Regulus watches him go and feels like he’s watching Sirius go all over again.

It’s a pathetic thought to have even to himself. He consciously decides to think about something else instead.

Hair. Think about hair.

The upkeep of his fringe is starting to get tiring. He complains at length to Lucius, a fellow long hair enthusiast, about how much more effort having short hair is. Lots of people say it looks nicer on him, but every time he goes home he has to visit the hairdresser and keep it in check.

Last term people asked why he cut it. Regulus asked them “Why does anyone do anything?” Despite what Narcissa says, it wasn’t supposed to be deep. It was just meant to get people to go away.

\--

Great Aunt Melissa has died. It would be very tragic, if Regulus had met her more than twice.

The good news is, he gets to leave Hogwarts for a weekend to attend the funeral. He tells Lucius in his latest letter than he’s extremely bereft and needs support in this trying time. Lucius’ reply says he’s spoken to Melissa’s family, and they’ve permitted him to attend.

Regulus takes the opportunity of the time off to get his fringe done professionally. Maybe he should get rid of it. He likes it, but he’s not sure if it’s worth the hassle, and when he wears something with a high collar his face looks very small. Then again, when he scrapes his hair back his face looks too big. It’s a difficult life to be Regulus Black.

Melissa’s favourite colour was purple. When she died Melania suggested the funeral’s dress code could be purple. Regulus was so ready to not come, but it ended up being Walburga who made a stink to get it changed. 

Narcissa’s wearing purple anyway. This dress is nicer than the one she wore at his party. Regulus is a big fan of velvet. It’s his favourite material.

“It’s such a stupid rule,” Regulus is saying to Narcissa when Lucius walks up to them both. “I can’t imagine parents will be too pleased. Oh. Hi.”

“Hello, Regulus. Narcissa. What are you complaining about now?”

“They’re changing term dates at Hogwarts,” Narcissa informs. “Starting September, no half-terms. Poor Regulus will only come home for Christmas and Easter.”

“But we’ll finish sooner,” Regulus says. “End of June. Makes no difference to me. Seventh Year would’ve ended by then, anyway.”

“Are you excited for next year, Regulus?” Lucius asks. “You’re sure to do well.”

“I’m already studying.”

Narcissa laughs. “I don’t think you need to revise _that_ far in advance. No one does anything in Sixth Year, relax until September and you’ll be fine.”

“I like studying.”

“You’re bizarre.”

“What did Slughorn think of your Potions project?” Lucius cuts in. “The one you almost killed yourself over?”

“He hasn’t marked it yet. Oh god, what is Grandmother wearing?”

The ugliest outfit on the planet, that’s what. All three of them stare in horror as Melania directs everyone to get into the black carriages so they can travel to the funeral parlour. Which carriage is the body in? He wants to be as far away as possible from it.

“It looks like there’s a squirrel on her head,” Narcissa says in awe. “How is it so terrible?”

“Do you think she knows?”

“Would anyone dare to tell her?” Lucius looks her up and down. “That is a hideous coat.”

“Mother would tell her, but she probably won’t.” Regulus might be in shock. “Who wears that many ruffles to a funeral?”

“Your sleeves have ruffles,” Narcissa points out.

“Two ruffles on sleeves is fine. Two ruffles on sleeves is normal. But look at her. She’s covered in ruffles. There’s no part of her outfit that isn’t ruffled. She’s one big ruffle.”

Lucius twirls his cane for no discernible reason. Probably just drama. “This funeral is no longer for Melissa Parkinson, _n_ _ée_ Macmillan, beloved by all. This funeral is now for Melania Black’s common sense.”

It’s really very funny. Regulus’ favourite part is probably the random _n_ _ée_ Macmillan, like Lucius is proving he knows who’s funeral he’s at. When he looks back at a crying Melania for a hot second he thinks she heard Lucius, but then he realises it’s her sister’s funeral and she’s very upset and she’s been trying to hide it and then he feels awful for laughing.

Regulus isn’t often empathetic. This sudden dash of kindness doesn’t sit well. Stops him trying to win over Lucius. Makes him give Melania a rare hug at the parlour. Makes Narcissa call him soft.

“Sit with me at the front,” Melania instructs, linking arms with Regulus and Narcissa. “You too, Bellatrix. It’s times like this the family must stick together.”

Regulus is deposited next to a Parkinson he vaguely recognises. After nodding hello he looks forward and – oh god. It’s open casket. Whose idea was that? He’d forgotten how much she looks like his grandmother. He has to keep looking over to make sure it really is Melissa’s funeral and not Melania’s.

“You look like her,” Melania tells him when it’s over. Regulus stares at the corpse.

“Thanks.”

“Before she died. Obviously.”

“Yeah.”

“Life is a fickle thing,” she goes on. This is getting really morbid. He needs cake. “Better hold onto it while you can.”

His eyes are drawn to Lucius. Carpe diem. Seize the day.

“That’s what I’m already doing,” he says. When Melania smiles there are tears in her eyes.

Halfway through the wake Regulus excuses himself to go stare at the Dark Mark in a toilet cubicle. It looks innocent when it’s not burning. Like he drew it on himself. Melissa Parkinson was out in the open for her whole family to see. What if someone makes his funeral open casket? What if his arm gets shown off?

His family would be proud. Right?

When he steps outside Lucius Malfoy is waiting. It’s the Slug Ball all over again.

“Waiting for me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry about your aunt.”

“Great aunt. It’s fine. I barely knew her.”

Lucius leans on his cane.

“You told me you were distraught enough to need emotional support. ‘Completely bereft’ were the words, if I remember correctly.”

“I lied.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Does it impress you?”

“It would impress You-Know-Who.”

“But does it impress _you?_ ” Regulus pushes. Lucius won’t quite meet his eyes.

“You should go back to the wake,” he says. “Your mother is looking for you.”

Regulus wants to meet his eyes, but Lucius keeps looking at the floor.

“I go back to Hogwarts tomorrow,” he says. “When they change the terms next year, I’ll be away for a lot longer. I’d like to keep writing.”

Lucius clears his throat.

“What day do you arrive next month?”

“The 7th.”

“I’ll pick you up from King’s Cross Station. We’ll go to that restaurant you were fond of.”

“With the tree?”

“With the unholy abomination, yes.”

“Sounds great,” Regulus says softly. “I’ll see you then.”

Among his family, Narcissa seeks him out to squeeze his hand. That hand is connected to the Marked arm. He doesn’t know if it’s significant. He doesn’t know what she’s trying to tell him.


	7. Chapter 7

_10 th April, 1978_

Narcissa tells him she’s won over a cup of tea.

“You can’t have won,” Regulus says. “He picked me up from the station three days ago. We had onion rings.”

“ _Lucius Malfoy_ had onion rings?”

“He called them _beignets d'oignons_ , but yes.” He personally thinks his impression of Lucius is excellent, but Narcissa doesn’t look impressed. “And we had to eat them with cutlery or our reputations would be ruined forever and no one would ever marry us.”

“Funny you should say that.” Her teacup clinks against its plate. “While you were eating onion rings, I was pulling strings. Not intended to rhyme, but it’s still accurate. I spoke to my father. And we made some decisions.”

“So?”

“So expect a wedding in the next year.”

Regulus laughs at what he thinks is a joke. But then Narcissa keeps sipping and her face isn’t changing and he gets a dreadful sinking feeling in his heart.

“You’re kidding.”

“I know you’d like me to be, but I’m not. My father had been looking into husbands anyway, it’s high time I got married, and through the course of our little game I may have developed certain…feelings for Lucius. I’m sure they’re returned.”

“But I was winning.”

“Were you?”

“Yes, I was. You should have seen some of the letters we wrote.”

“I can get my hands on them when he’s my husband.” He doesn’t know what to say. Narcissa frowns and her voice goes gentle. “Regulus, it was always going to end like this. We can get married and you can’t. I can see a future with Lucius. Your future with him would be behind locked doors. You can write all the letters you want, they’ll be the best you can ever get.”

Regulus looks at Narcissa’s floor. There’s a stain on it. His house isn’t stained, not since Sirius left. Normally he’d point it out to her.

“Does Lucius know?”

“My father and his are talking it over now.” The Malfoys will say yes. Of course they’ll say yes. “He’ll know by tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Christ. No time to stop this. Only enough to make one last attempt.

“Congratulations.”

“For my marriage or my victory?”

“The one that’s got me in a mood.”

“No need to be a sore loser, Reg.”

“I’ve always been a sore loser.”

“Yes,” Narcissa says. “Yes you have.”

\--

The Malfoy House Elf is happy to let him in. She really wants to take his coat, but Regulus tells her it’s fine. He isn’t staying long.

Lucius’ room is right on the other end of Malfoy Manor. The whole walk he can just hear Lucius’ voice in his head, pointing out the antiques and the paintings of his ancestors and how great this place is. Much nicer to grow up here than at Grimmauld Place. Narcissa’s kid will.

Lucius jerks up when Regulus slams the door open. Ink spills over the desk and parchment.

“Regulus,” he says, “what on earth are you doing?!”

Regulus stares at the parchment.

“Who are you writing to?”

“You.” Lucius crumples the parchment. “But I suppose there’s no need now. You didn’t ask me if you could come by. And it’s terrible manners to open the door like that, if your parents saw you behave like that –”

“You’re going to marry Narcissa.”

Lucius stops. “What?”

Regulus has pre-Quidditch match jitters. All his blood is shaking.

“You. Narcissa. Marriage. Soon. She told me.”

“Ah.”

“Did you know?”

“I suspected something like that may be in motion, but I hadn’t had a chance to discuss it with my father.”

He can’t look away from the parchment. Lucius was writing to him. That has to mean something.

“Will you be happy?” Regulus asks quietly. “With her.”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t be.” Lucius stands. “Are you alright? You look ill. Have you taken another bad potion combination?”

Regulus leans back, pushing the door closed. When they finally lock eyes it’s like the whole situation’s become clear, all at once, laid out bare. This is shit. This is really fucking shit. 

Only one thing to do.

Kiss Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius doesn’t lean away. He’s marrying Narcissa and he’s going to be happy with her but he doesn’t lean away. Regulus runs a hand down his arm and it’s velvet, his favourite, and it’s covering a mark that he shares because they’re connected.

When it finally ends neither of them know what to do. Just stand there.

“What was your letter about?” Regulus asks, for lack of anything better. Lucius stares with very wide eyes.

“…The Falmouth Falcons. I read an old report on their first match. I thought you might be interested.”

“Yeah. That sounds cool.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Why do you think?”

Lucius looks at the door. Is he planning to run off, or thinking of what would happen if they kissed while it was open?

“It’s not,” Lucius says, “the done thing.”

“I know. I just – look, I’m eighteen in less than a year. I finish Hogwarts six months after that. That’s not so long to wait, right?”

“It’s not about the waiting.”

“Isn’t it?” Regulus challenges. He’s never seen Lucius Malfoy look awkward before. He was the one to manage that. Him. Not Narcissa. “It must be a part of it.”

“Yes. It is. I’m not willing to wait that long. But even if I did wait, or if you finished Hogwarts tomorrow, it still wouldn’t be enough. We’d have to hide, and spend an entire relationship working around people and failing to enjoy it in case someone found out.”

“I’m not saying we’d have to be official or anything. You could still marry someone.”

“But not Narcissa?”

“She’s different. You like her. And she’s my cousin.”

“I’m not turning down a highly beneficial marriage to a woman I admire from a respected family. Like I said. It isn’t the done thing.”

It’s not about benefits, Regulus wants to say. It’s about what’s real. But the problem is that Lucius does have something real with Narcissa. And if you have to choose between something real you can have and something real you have to hide you’re never going to choose to lie.

“What about this?” Regulus asks, and pulls up his sleeve. He didn’t feel like he was embarrassing himself back in the bathroom. He does feel that way now. “She doesn’t have one of these.”

“What are you trying to convince me of?”

“I don’t know.” I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. “When she told me I knew I had to come here. But I don’t know what I expect you to say. Or do. I don’t know what I expect myself to do.”

Lucius looks like he really wants to twirl his cane but it isn’t here. His hair’s half tied-up and falling out. That’s what you get for bursting in on someone in their room. It’s the worst Regulus has seen him look. It’s the best Regulus has seen him look.

“Does Narcissa realise that you have these feelings?” Lucius asks. It cuts to the core for no reason at all, what is going on, usually he doesn’t care.

“No.”

 _"Do_ you have these feelings, or do you think that I’m more likely to prefer you if you make a big show?”

Out of words. Out of breath. Out of time.

“I think I should go,” Regulus says, and when he turns away no voice calls out to stop him.

Where do things go from here? Will they even still write? He’s not willing to send the first letter and Lucius is very proud. At Death Eater meetings will Regulus feel glad for the masks? They could keep going as they have, good friends on the verge of something more but never quite reaching it. He could try and have something behind Narcissa’s back, or even let her know, and it might work out. Everything still might work out.

But all that stuff is still best-case scenario. It isn’t the done thing, Lucius said. Regulus always does the done thing. He’s a Black. They’re all about the done thing. And the done thing is to step back.

Lucius likes Narcissa and Narcissa likes Lucius. They’ll be happy. The only one losing is him.

On one horrible day Lucius and Narcissa will get married and Regulus will be a guest. Too old to be pallbearer, too young to be best man, he’ll just have to sit as part of the crowd and know that he never had a chance of winning with the same prize as Narcissa.

She’ll probably make him wear purple.

At home he goes and stares at his father. He’s not better. He’s never going to get better.

Kreacher wraps around his leg the way he used to when Regulus was small and upset. The last time Kreacher did this was when Sirius left. That day Regulus had insisted he was fine, it was always to be expected, if anything his life had become better. Today his hand rests on Kreacher’s head.

He pulls out the cards and pretends to play against his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!!  
> a couple lines in chapter one are from the unrevealed prompt - thank you to the prompter! :)


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